


To Have a Home

by HelloColdWorld



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood, Explicit Language, Homelessness, Physical Abuse, Starvation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 15:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16287218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelloColdWorld/pseuds/HelloColdWorld
Summary: To say that Virgil had a poor life at home is an understatement. One day he decides to run away and live on the streets.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: homelessness, physical abuse, vomit, blood, alcohol abuse

Virgil shivered as a gust of wind blew, rain starting to fall lightly around him. He tugged his hoodie closer around himself and pulled the hood over his head. Fiddling absently with the small gauge earring on one of his ears, he tried to distract himself from the sharp hunger pangs in his stomach. The street was populated with people rushing into restaurants and shops to get out of the rain. No one paid attention to him, but Virgil was used to that. It had been almost six months since he ran away from home. Six months of sneaking into alleys behind restaurants to their dumpsters after closing time, rooting around for scraps, if he was really desperate. One time he had found a fresh roasted chicken carcass with a bit of meat still on it. He had to stop himself from eating it all, and luckily had the good sense to save a few bones for later. Six months of using the nearby river to wash up, long since using the last of the body wash he had included in the backpack he took with him, now having no choice than to scrub with plain water and hope for the best. Sometimes he earned enough money from busking on the corner to buy some food. If he was lucky, he could afford soap too. But usually not both. And if it was either starve to death or offend people with body odor, it was a pretty easy decision on which to spend his money on.

He glanced up at the people passing by. No one was going to stop in the rain to listen to him sing now. He started packing up his guitar, not bothering to count the few quarters that were tossed into its hard case that morning. He didn’t have enough money to buy any food tonight. And it was only five o’clock, too early to root through the trash at the nearby restaurants. He would just have to wait it out.

With a quick glance up at the sky, he hastened to pack up. There were only a couple hours left before the local library would close, and he desperately needed to charge his phone. Shouldering his backpack and picking up his guitar, he began the half-mile walk.

He hated when his phone was dead. It left him with no music to listen to, nothing but his own thoughts, and given his current situation, they were never happy ones. He ran his tongue over his lip ring, kicking a rock out of his way. He tried not to think about his parents, and how his mom had probably not even bothered to look for him. He wondered if she was still with that asshole of a stepfather. Reynard. The man who was largely responsible for Virgil’s homelessness. The man who once gave him a concussion after coming home drunk at 3am. Virgil shivered again, but this time, it was not from the cold.

_“What are you doing awake, kid?”_

_Virgil had nearly jumped out of his skin at his voice. He hadn’t heard him come in. He had gone downstairs for a glass of water, and he thought his stepdad was still out._

_“Just getting water,” Virgil replied timidly. He internally winced at how meek he always sounded around him. He desperately wished he had the balls to stand up to him, but he had already tried that once, when he witnessed Reynard hit his mom._

_“Is that right,” he said, his words slurring. He suddenly narrowed his amber colored eyes and reached a cold hand to the boy’s right arm. Virgil followed the man’s stare down to his own forearm. “You got a new tattoo.”_

_Virgil’s heart dropped into his stomach at Reynard’s discovery. He had indeed gotten the image of a[guitar](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/350154939771032018/) inked onto his skin several days earlier, but Reynard had been traveling for work at the time and was unaware. “Y…” Virgil cleared his suddenly dry throat. “Yeah.”_

_“I thought I told you not to get any more tattoos. They’re disgusting.”_

_“They’re not–” Virgil was cut off mid sentence with a blow to the face. His head slammed violently against the wall behind him with a loud crack. He slowly reached up to his mouth, trying to ignore the explosion of pain in his skull, and drew his fingers back to see blood, where his metal lip ring had opened a cut. The pain in his head intensified, and he suddenly doubled over, vomiting onto the ground._

_Reynard smirked. “Clean that up before going to sleep, will ya?” With that, he was gone._

Several hours later, Virgil arrived back home - it had taken weeks for him to even consider calling this dirty alley his home - and threw his stuff down on the ground with a sigh. He had just finished going through the dumpsters and found a few pieces of stale bread and some cheese. It wasn’t much, but it was better than eating nothing, like he had a couple of days ago.

He pulled his throw fleece blanket out of his backpack. He smoothed it out on the ground before opening his guitar case, removing his acoustic and sitting down, using his lumpy bag as a pillow for his back. He closed his eyes and plucked a few strings before starting to softly sing to himself.

“I’ve got troubled thoughts

And the self-esteem to match

What a catch….what a catch…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song he’s singing at the end is "What a Catch, Donnie" by Fall Out Boy. It’s a really sad song and it always makes me want to cry, especially at the end when the band’s friends (like Brendon Urie) sing lines from past FOB songs. Pete wrote the lyrics from Patrick’s point of view about Pete being suicidal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is FULL of angst. Poor Virge.
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of physical/verbal abuse, neglect

The next morning, the light woke Virgil up early, as usual. He sat up, rolled his neck, and stretched his arms above his head. His stomach growled painfully as he felt a wave of dizziness roll through him. The scent of food from a nearby cafe made his mouth water, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to walk in and order as much as he could eat. He rooted through a few dumpsters, coming up with a half eaten bagel in a Ziploc baggie that was just starting to get moldy. By now, Virgil knew when the garbage trucks came, and made sure to be in and out before they arrived at the dumpsters. He opened the Ziploc and tore off the moldy parts of the bagel before biting into it. It was stale but still somewhat edible. As he chewed, he thought back to his second week of homelessness, and the feeling of dread when he had realized that the small wad of cash that he had brought with him had to be rationed, which meant he wasn’t going to be able to buy that much food at once. He had bought a small sandwich earlier, and tried to make it last by taking a few bites here and there throughout the day. However, by that evening, it was finished, and his funds were already dangerously low. So, given no other choice, he had picked through a smelly trash can when nobody was around. He had to hold part of his hoodie over his mouth and nose with one hand to keep from gagging while he rifled through the bin with the other. The first edible thing he’d found was an apple core, and he slowly brought it up to his mouth with trepidation. He was terrified of getting sick, but he was just  _so hungry_ , so he squeezed his eyes shut and took a bite before he could psych himself out further. “It doesn’t taste poisonous,” he thought to himself. “Come on man, just eat the rest.” So he did.

Now, Virgil finished his breakfast slowly, knowing from experience that if he ate too quickly, he would make himself sick. He sipped on the water in his large reusable water bottle that he had filled yesterday at the library’s water fountain, as was his daily routine. He was eternally thankful that he had the sense to take it with him when he left home. He spilled a bit of it out into his hands, scrubbed his face, and ran them through his hair. Setting down his water bottle, he took out his toothbrush and toothpaste from his backpack. He bought the toothpaste several weeks ago with a bit of the money he had earned, and was sure to only use a pea sized amount each time. Gone were the days of his past life when he would slather his entire toothbrush with the stuff. If homelessness had taught Virgil one thing, it was conservation. He brushed his teeth, using a bit of the water from his bottle. That simple act almost made him feel human again. Almost. “What I wouldn’t give for a hot shower right now,” Virgil said out loud to himself with a sigh.

He made quick work of packing his stuff up before setting out to his usual busking spot. The street was mostly empty at this hour, but he knew that morning commuters would soon be buzzing around him. He cracked his knuckles before opening his guitar case and taking out his most prized possession. When he played the guitar, nothing else mattered. He could close his eyes and imagine that he was twelve again, his father sitting next to him and showing him how to form a chord. “To make a G chord, put your fingers here, like this,” his dad had told him as he demonstrated on his own guitar. “That’s right, Virge. You’ll be a rockstar in no time!”

Shaking his head as if to get rid of the memory, Virgil reverently ran his hand over the guitar’s neck. “This one’s for you, Dad. Wherever you are.” He closed his eyes, and [began to sing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=erGiCfY-cR4).

_It’s takin’ time, all this fear I pushed back to move on_

_Beating me like a panic attack since you’ve gone_

_And if I never feared to be more alone, I do now_

_I turn to see my faded tracks in the snow_

_I’ve come so far with no idea where to go_

_And if I never fear to be more alone, I do now_

_I do now_

Memories of his childhood with his father surfaced in his mind as these lyrics spilled out of his mouth. Learning to ride a bike. Receiving his first acoustic guitar from him and learning to play. Spending the entire day at the beach, just the two of them. Tears slid down his face as he sang, imagining his dad watching him proudly.

_I need you to tell me you’ll be right by my side_

_When I feel alone, you’ll be right by my side, ooh_

_It’s takin’ hold of a fool with a fondness for pain_

_And turn to run without a chance to explain_

_And if I never thought I’d fall like the rain, I do now_

_I_ _do now…_

Virgil opened his eyes to see a young mother holding her son, watching him play. She gave him an encouraging smile as he kept singing, and then reached into her purse and pulled out some money to throw into his case. He smiled gratefully at her. As he continued to strum, he saw the child turn to his mother and hug her tight, to which she answered with a loving kiss on the cheek. Virgil’s heart clenched painfully at the sight, suddenly wanting to be anywhere but there.

_And I need you to tell me you’ll be right by my side_

_When I feel alone, you’ll be right by my side_

_You’ll be right by my side…_

As the song drew to a close, he heard the boy tell his mother that he wanted to be a guitar player when he grew up. “Of course, sweetie,” the woman answered. “You can be anything you want to be.”

Virgil’s eyes filled up with tears at her words. He thanked the small crowd and hastily packed up his things before rushing away to his alley. Once away from the public, he dropped his stuff and collapsed into sobs. He had avoided thinking about his own mother for so many months that he hadn’t realized how much he longed for her love. She had never been there for him in all his seventeen years. She never encouraged him to do anything, to be anything, to realize his full potential, like this young mother had just done with her own son. During Virgil’s younger years, his mother spent most of her time complaining about Virgil’s father, arguing with him, or crying over him. She had been too caught up in her own drama to pay much attention her son. If it weren’t for his father’s love, Virgil would not have even realized what he was missing. He wouldn’t have craved it so much.

It had broken his heart when his parents announced their divorce. He was thirteen, old enough to understand what was happening, yet to  _not understand why_. Why he couldn’t go live with his dad instead of his mom. Why his parents hated each other in the first place. Why his mother couldn’t acknowledge Virgil’s existence, other than providing for his basic needs. Why, later on, she had stayed with Reynard long after he began to exhibit abusive behavior towards the both of them. He didn’t understand, and he never would. He hated them. He hated his mother for never being there for him, his father for leaving him, and his stepfather for verbally and physically hurting him.  _He hated all of them._  But yet, frustratingly, he desperately wished that they needed him. But every passing day that they failed to come find him proved to Virgil how  _unwanted_  he was. He thought of the little boy in the crowd and how obvious it was that he and his mother loved each other. “M…must…be…n…ice,” Virgil choked out between sobs.

He opened his guitar case to find the money that the mother had given him. Ten dollars. He cried in earnest at her thoughtfulness. Ten dollars wouldn’t have seemed like much in his past life, but he hadn’t so much as seen five in the past week. Then he saw several crumpled bills and some change from other onlookers. He counted it up. $23.87 in total. He sobbed even harder. He would be able to eat a real meal tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, one of the other sides makes their debut!
> 
> Warnings: language, anxiety, panic

Virgil woke up the next morning the happiest he had felt in a while. The evening prior, he was able to buy a cheap but hearty meal, and still had enough money left over to buy some body wash and to do his laundry at the laundromat. His stomach was full and he was clean. Before he was homeless, he would have taken all of that for granted, but not now. He whistled as he walked to his favorite busking spot, a bit later than usual. It was a Saturday, and he had decided to sleep in a bit. **  
**

Halfway through one of his songs, he saw a boy watching him. He was about Virgil’s age, and was wearing white skinny jeans and a red sweater. His brown hair was neatly swept to the side, and he held himself proudly, his back straight and his chest out slightly. He stuck around for the last three songs Virgil played, which was unusual. Most people did not stay for more than one song, maybe two, if they even stopped at all. The boy didn’t seem to be in any rush to be anywhere.

As Virgil pulled his guitar off of his shoulder, he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He turned and found himself face to face with the boy from earlier.

“Hi,” the boy said, confidently. “I was watching you play, and I knew I just had to come up and tell you how much I enjoyed it.”

“Thank you,” Virgil replied. He was unsure of where this conversation was heading and it made him uneasy.  _“Why would someone like this guy be talking to a homeless kid like me?”_  Virgil thought. He shook his head slightly; this boy didn’t know he was homeless, and he wouldn’t find out. Virgil would make sure of it.

“Do you live around here? I’ve seen you play here before but I haven’t seen you at school or anything. I go to Gainesville High.”

“Oh, uh,” Virgil stuttered. His heart started pounding. “I go to Eastside High. I come here to play…you know, to earn a little extra money here and there. Better than getting an afterschool job.” That wasn’t entirely a lie. He did attend that particular school before he ran away, and he did play to earn money.

The boy nodded in understanding. “I’m Roman.” He stuck out his hand. “What’s your name?”

“Virgil.” The two boys shook hands.

“So, uh, Virgil,” Roman started, rubbing at the back of his neck. He dropped his confident air. “I hope this doesn’t sound too sudden, but…do you want to grab a bite to eat somewhere and hang out for a bit?”

Virgil’s heart started pounding again.  _“Say no, say no,”_ his brain screamed. He couldn’t get too close to people. Yes, he was aching for social interaction, but his anxiety kicked in and  attempted to override whatever feeling of loneliness he had. The only problem was, he didn’t have an excuse at the ready. “Oh, I….I don’t know,” he stammered as he racked his brain for a good reason to say no, other than I-am-homeless-and-I-don’t-want-you-to-find-out.

“Oh, come on!” Roman said brightly. He seemed to have found his confidence again. He patted Virgil on the arm, “It’ll be fun. I’m interested to hear about your love of music. I myself am a vocalist. We may have a lot in common.”

“O-okay…sure,” Virgil said hesitantly. He winced internally. This could go horribly wrong.

“Wonderful!” Roman exclaimed. He clapped his hands in excitement, and Virgil chuckled despite himself. “I know a great little place down the street.”

Virgil tightened his slick palms on his guitar case as he let Roman lead the way. He was suddenly stifling hot in his hoodie, which usually didn’t bother him despite Florida’s warm weather. He kept swallowing against the growing lump in his throat, while also trying to breathe deeply to calm himself down. He was surprised he wasn’t experiencing a debilitating panic attack at that moment.

“Here we are!” Roman announced, breaking Virgil out of his thoughts. They were standing outside of a small cafe. “I come here a lot.” Sure enough, when they entered the establishment, Roman was greeted specifically by name by three employees. Roman grinned sheepishly at Virgil and wordlessly gestured for him to follow the hostess first.

A few minutes after they sat down, a man in a dress shirt and tie approached them. “Who’s your friend, Roman?”

“This is Virgil. Virgil, this is Rick. He’s the owner and one of my dad’s close friends.”

Virgil shook hands with the man. “It’s nice to meet you, Rick.”

“Likewise, Virgil.” Rick smiled. “Don’t worry about the bill today, boys. This meal is on the house.”

“What? No, I can’t possibly let you–” Roman sputtered.

“Nonsense,” Rick said, waving his hands to dismiss Roman’s protest. “Your father told me you got the lead role in your school play. We’re so proud of you, Roman. Consider this your congratulatory gift. I won’t take no for an answer; order anything you want.”

Roman smiled widely. “Well…that’s very kind of you, Rick. Thank you.”

Virgil echoed his thanks. When Rick left, he turned to Roman. “Judging by your reaction, I’m assuming he’s never done that before?”

“No, never,” Roman answered. He smiled and raised his voice. “These people are the nicest bunch.”

“Right back at’cha, Ro,” the hostess called out, winking.

Virgil hated to admit it, but he was actually quite enjoying himself. The food was delicious and he felt like crying at Rick’s generosity. He held it together, letting the conversation with Roman distract him. He was careful not to give away too much information about his personal life to his new friend, and after several useless attempts to inquire, Roman gave up. They talked about music, about Virgil’s guitar and Roman’s love for the piano, their favorite bands, songs, and past concert experiences. Roman gushed about his passion for stage performance, and told Virgil all about the play he had been cast in. He asked Virgil about his piercings and tattoos, and the homeless teen tried to convince Roman to get some, but he refused. “I don’t need anything to distract from my beautiful face,” Roman had said with a laugh, lifting his chin proudly.

When the two boys finally left the cafe, Virgil was in a great mood, the polar opposite from when he walked in several hours earlier. His stomach was full, he had a doggie bag of leftovers for later, and he had fulfilled his craving for casual one-on-one social interaction. But Virgil’s mood was suddenly shattered with one simple sentence out of Roman’s mouth. “Would you like me to drive you home?”

With that, Virgil’s anxiety was back.  _“Shit, shit, shit,”_  he thought.  _“Say no! Think of a reason. Something! Anything! You have to say no!”_ Virgil panicked for what felt like an eternity, and he could see Roman’s confusion evident on his face. “I…uh, no, thank you. I’d rather walk.”

“Are you sure?” Roman squinted his eyes as he tried to read Virgil’s expression. “I’m parked in that parking lot right over there. It’s no trouble at all.” Virgil hesitated, and Roman smiled. “Come on.” Roman gently grabbed Virgil’s arm and tugged him towards his car.

 _“No, no, no!”_  Virgil’s anxiety screamed at him.  _“Don’t let him drive you! You can’t let him know that you’re homeless. He would never want to be friends with you if he found out!”_  But it was too late. They had reached Roman’s car, and Roman was opening the passenger door for him. He had no other choice than to get in.

“Where to?”

His mind raced to think of a town that was not too far from their current location, yet close enough to Eastside High School that would seem believable. “Uh…I live…I live in…umm…Springhill,” Virgil managed.

“Okay,” Roman nodded, and Virgil breathed a sigh of relief. After about ten minutes, Roman cleared his throat. “So, um…are you going to give me an address, or…?”

“Oh, um…yeaaah…take a right up ahead. You can let me off there. My house is down the street. I’ll walk the rest of the way. I want to…um…walk off some of those calories from lunch.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I need the exercise.” Virgil looked at Roman, mentally pleading with him to accept. After a moment, Roman nodded and slowed down to a stop.

He put the car into park. “I had a lot of fun, Virgil,” he said. “I’m glad we met.”

“Me too,” Virgil said. He meant it, even if he was still a bit nervous. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Of course. Hey, will you be playing your guitar on the street tomorrow?”

“Yes, at my usual spot.”

“Great. I want to come watch again. Is that okay?”

“Sure.”

“Great. I’ll give you my number too.”

Virgil nodded and typed in the numbers that Roman dictated. He smiled and opened the car door, quickly shut it, and opened the door to the backseat. He grabbed his backpack and guitar, before looking back at Roman. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

With a wave, Virgil shut the door and set off in the direction of the house he had indicated to his new friend. He walked slowly, hoping that Roman wouldn’t wait for him. To his immense relief, he started driving away a minute later, beeping his horn as he went. Virgil walked a leisurely loop around the neighborhood to give Roman a decent head start before starting the long walk back to his alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not from Florida, and even though I tried to do some research about Gainesville and its nearby towns, please excuse any geographical plot holes if they’re present.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: lying, homeless prejudice

As promised, the next day, Roman stopped by Virgil’s busking spot after school to watch him play. They walked across the street to the park afterwards, and ended up hanging out until nearly dusk. Virgil asked Roman if his parents would worry where he was, but Roman said no, that he had a decent amount of freedom, as long as he was home by 8pm on weeknights. Virgil was shocked; when he lived with his mom and stepdad, he had a strict curfew enforced by Reynard. Roman asked Virgil about his own parents, but the homeless teen was careful to keep his answer as vague as possible to throw off suspicion. It seemed to work, and the two boys parted ways to head home. **  
**

The days turned into weeks, and Virgil and Roman saw each other just about every day. Early on in their friendship, Roman had invited him to hang out at his house. Virgil politely declined, making up an excuse that his own parents expected him home directly after his busking job. In reality, Virgil was afraid to meet his new friend’s parents. He was afraid they would ask details about his home life, or would want to drop him off at home at the end of the evening. Virgil was sure that Roman’s parents would not be willing to leave him at the side of the road like Roman had done that first day they’d met. And so, Virgil struck up a deal with Roman: they could remain friends, but could only hang out downtown, and would have to part ways there.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Virgil shook his head. “I know it sounds weird. But…uh…my parents are really strict, and they don’t let me do much outside of school other than playing my music. I had to fight them to even let me do that.”

“So…why do you busk so much if you can’t even go out and spend the money you earn?”

That threw Virgil for a loop. He hadn’t thought of the solution to that plothole. He struggled to calm his sudden pounding heart as he tried to come up with an answer. “Because…uh…I like to spend my money on guitar stuff. New picks, new strings, stuff like that.” Virgil hated to lie to his new friend. He was sure he would eventually be caught, that Roman would insist on driving Virgil all the way home, or invite Virgil to his house and not take no for an answer this time. But he had to. “Look. I know it sounds really weird. I understand that. But it’s the only way that we can remain friends, if we keep it here.”

Roman looked at Virgil for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. “Okay.”

Virgil sighed in relief. “Thank you.” He could see the suspicion, and the way Roman was searching Virgil’s eyes for a clue. Virgil kept his face as neutral as possible.

After a moment, Roman shrugged. “Well…I guess I should head home, then,” he said. The usual cheeriness in his voice was gone. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiled at Virgil, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Virgil said goodbye, and Roman turned and walked away.

Virgil sighed. His guilt left an uncomfortable lump in his throat, and he swallowed hard against it. He tried to convince himself that it was for the best that Roman stay in the dark about his homelessness. People tended to have a prejudice against homeless people, whether they’d openly admit to it or not. Virgil often struggled to make even five dollars from his busking; usually people walked right by him without so much as a glance. Or, if they did actually stop and watch, they would often leave a couple minutes later without sparing a cent. Virgil himself used to do the same when he was younger. Of course, he was often encouraged by his parents beside him to keep walking, but the reason didn’t matter. He used to never give homeless people his attention either. Surely Roman would change his entire perception of Virgil once he found out. It would hurt even more this time, since he was actually a friend, and not just some passerby on the street. Virgil was simply trying to protect his heart. If there was one important thing he’d learned by becoming homeless, it was that he had to put himself first. There was no one else to look after him, no one to protect him but himself. He had to put his guard up. Don’t let people in too closely. Keep friends at a safe distance. It was for the best.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patton and Logan finally make their debut!

A couple of days passed without any word from Roman. He didn’t show up at Virgil’s busking spot like usual. Virgil was in a constant state of worry, hoping that Roman didn’t hate him for the deal he had made him agree to. On the third day in a row that Roman failed to show up, Virgil stationed himself at the library to use their wifi. **  
**

 **Virgil (5:12 pm):**  Ro, I haven’t seen you in a few days. I hope you’re not mad at me. I miss hanging out with you.

 **Virgil (5:42 pm):**  Roman??

 **Virgil (5:45 pm):**  I’m sorry if this is about the whole thing about only hanging out downtown. I have a legit reason for that, I swear. I don’t really see why it’s such a huge deal, though…like, I still wanna be your friend and hang out with you. I miss you. Please text me back.

 **Virgil (6:03 pm):**  Alright, man…message received, loud and clear. I’m so so sorry. I’ll stop bugging you :(

Virgil locked his phone and put his head on his arms on the table, groaning loudly into his hoodie sleeves. He heard a few people shushing him, which he ignored. Why was Roman giving him the cold shoulder? It wasn’t like Virgil had broken off their friendship entirely. It was the only way, as far as Virgil could see, that allowed him to remain friends with Roman as well as keep his homelessness a secret. Of course, Roman didn’t know that, so Virgil tried to see it from his perspective. Sure, it was probably an odd request, but if he were Roman, he wouldn’t have gone radio silent. That seemed like a dramatic overreaction. Virgil felt pinpricks at the back of his eyes, and he blinked a few times to stave off the incoming tears. Frustration, loneliness, guilt….all of those feelings were brewing inside of him like an imminent thunderstorm. Before meeting Roman, Virgil hadn’t realized just how much he had missed having a friend, especially one his own age. He could hardly remember what he did to occupy his time when he wasn’t playing his guitar for money. Now, he craved Roman’s attention. He wanted someone to talk to, even if their conversations were about silly, mundane things. He wanted his friend back. Of course, having declined his invitation to Roman’s house meant that Virgil had no idea where Roman lived. Then again, if he  _did_  know where Roman lived, would he have gone to his house to demand an explanation? Maybe not. Virgil was terrified of confrontation.

So, Virgil had no choice other than to live his life and hope that his friend came back to him. “Good one, Universe,” Virgil mumbled into his sleeves. “Have this guy come into my life and then suddenly take him away from me. Real cool of you.”

The next day, Virgil set up his things at his busking spot with the hope that Roman would show. He hadn’t tried to text him since the prior evening at the library; he still hadn’t gotten an answer back. It was a weekday, so Virgil knew that if Roman were to show up, he wouldn’t do so until at least after three o’clock when school let out. He looked at the clock on his phone every so often. Three fifteen. Twenty to four. He kept playing, nodding and smiling gratefully at those who stopped and dropped money into his guitar case. He checked the time again. Four thirty. There now were only three people watching him play: a man who looked to be in his late thirties, and two teenage boys with matching glasses. The boys were murmuring to each other, never once taking their eyes off of Virgil while doing so. It made him uneasy. He decided to end his performance a few songs early so the boys would leave. Unfortunately, that did not happen.

“Hi there,” one of the boys greeted as they both approached him. The boy that spoke was wearing a light blue polo shirt, khakis, and a gray cardigan knotted around his shoulders. He looked like he just stepped out of a Ralph Lauren catalogue. The other boy who stood next to him wore a black polo with a blue striped tie and black pants. He adjusted his thick black glasses and looked at Virgil curiously.

“Uh…hi,” Virgil answered hesitantly.

“I must say, you are quite a gifted guitarist and vocalist,” the boy in the tie complimented.

“Thank you.” Virgil was oddly reminded of his first conversation with Roman; it transpired in almost the same exact way. These boys seemed a bit more shy than Roman had been, though; Virgil was nearly certain that they would not invite him out to eat at a cafe down the street. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I should get going…”

“Oh, uh…sure,” the boy in the light blue polo responded. He drew his right hand to his chin in thought, and looked at his friend, who nodded. “Actually, uh, hang on, one moment…?”

Virgil was about to sling his backpack over his shoulder, but paused. He stayed silent, waiting. The boy opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, looking conflicted. He glanced at the boy in the black polo, who looked just as hesitant as his friend. Virgil sighed in annoyance. “Look, I appreciate you coming up to talk to me. Really, I do. But I do have to–”

“Wait!” the boy in the blue shirt interrupted. He took a breath before continuing. “I’m Patton and this,” he gestured at his friend, “is Logan. We….we’re Roman’s friends.”

Upon hearing those words, Virgil’s stomach dropped. So, Roman had clearly told his friends about him. Why did he send them to talk to him? Why couldn’t Roman come see him like usual? Something was definitely wrong.

“Oh?” Virgil tried his best to appear nonchalant. “That’s…cool.”

Logan cleared his throat. “Listen, Virgil, we must be candid with you,” the boy waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, we know your name; it is obvious at this point that Roman told us about you. The three of us felt that it was necessary for Patton and me to make your acquaintance and subsequently initiate a conversation with you. Roman has been feeling rather…” Logan paused, searching for the right word, “unsettled…about the agreement you asked of him. He feels that there is a more clandestine reason than the one you supplied him with.”

Virgil blinked. “Roman thinks I’m hiding something from him.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Well…yes,” Patton nodded slowly. He put up his hands in defense, and his next words came out in a rush. “That’s not to say that you are, that’s just what Roman thinks, and your reason could be totally different, I mean, you’ve only known him for, what, a month? Maybe you’re just more comfortable hanging out with him in public, I don’t know, but he’s kind of feeling weird about it and that’s the reason why he’s been so quiet.”

“He feels that perhaps you are ashamed to be his friend and do not want to invite him to your home,” Logan added.

“What? No! Why would I be ashamed?” Virgil said quickly. He blew out air through his mouth and ran his hand through his hair. “Look. I know it sounds weird to only want to hang out here. It’s just that…my life hasn’t exactly been easy, and I’m going through a really tough time right now. Probably the most challenging thing in my life that I’ve ever had to face. Plus, I’ve been hurt in the past, and I don’t want it to happen again. Please tell him that I’m not ashamed to be his friend, not at all. Tell him that I’m not some weirdo, and that my reasoning behind my request is totally valid. I hope he will come around.” Virgil looked into Roman’s friends’ eyes, hoping that the sincerity behind his words would show through.

Logan looked apprehensive. He glanced at Patton, who nodded. “Kiddo,” Patton started. Virgil didn’t have time to decide if his usage of that nickname was condescending or endearing, because he was continuing to talk, “We will pass along your message to him. If he decides that he needs some more time, then we hope you’ll understand. I’m sure he’ll come back here if or when he’s ready.”

Virgil tried to ignore the fact that Patton said ‘if’. That was probably the best answer he was going to get. “Okay. Thanks.”

The boys nodded, and with a wave, they left. Virgil watched them walk away, his thoughts swirling. Would Roman come back? Or would Virgil never see his new friend again? The homeless boy had nothing else to do than to wait for Logan and Patton to pass along his message and hope for the best.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsttttt!
> 
> Warnings: language, slight violence

Virgil awoke the next morning with a feeling of anticipation. Had Patton and Logan talked to Roman after meeting Virgil yesterday? Would Roman finally come see him today? Virgil didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help it.

The day was cloudy and it smelled like rain. Virgil glanced at the sky apprehensively. He never played when it was raining - what was the point? - but if it meant that he would potentially miss Roman’s appearance, then he might have to risk getting rained on. He tuned his guitar in his alleyway, doing it on autopilot as his thoughts were elsewhere.

Virgil played the first two songs to a meager audience of two, neither of whom were Roman. He sighed and kept playing. He looked down at his strings for a moment, switching chords, when a familiar voice drifted to him over the tune of his song.

“Yes, I’m on my way, Pat, enough with the lecturing.”

Virgil’s head snapped up, and his heart hammered in his chest. Sure enough, Roman came striding around the corner, coming to a stop off to the side of Virgil’s setup. Virgil felt the need to be petty rising up in him. He looked at Roman in the eye, and then very purposefully turned his body so it was perpendicular to him, ignoring him completely. He heard a small strangled noise from Roman over the sound of his guitar and Virgil couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. He kept playing [the song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RcUjwuQKEFg) until the end, careful not to look at Roman.

When the song was over, Virgil immediately launched into another one, not giving Roman a chance to talk to him. He almost expected Roman to leave, but to his surprise, he waited patiently. Towards the end of that song, Roman started to inch closer to him, giving Virgil the impression that he wasn’t going to let the homeless boy continue to ignore him.

“Virgil,” Roman said firmly as soon as the song ended. “I need to talk to you.”

“ _Sure, now you want to talk. Let me just drop everything_ ,” Virgil thought. Out loud, he answered, “What, Roman?”, not even trying to mask his annoyance.

Roman opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, looking around himself. “Let’s go to the park.”

Virgil sighed and snapped his guitar case shut. He shouldered his backpack and grabbed his case before following Roman across the street to the quiet park.

“Why do you carry your backpack everywhere? I’ve never once seen you open it.”

“That’s not important right now. What is important is you explaining why you dropped off the face of the earth all of a sudden.” Virgil hated confrontation, and would normally run away at the idea of talking things out, but finally seeing Roman again made his anger flare up in a way he hadn’t expected.

“I know.” Roman sat down on a bench and pointedly looked at Virgil, who set his things down and sat next to him. Virgil looked at him expectantly. Roman continued, “I was a jerk. I shouldn’t have gone silent on you like that. I apologize.”

“Okay.” Virgil didn’t want to give Roman the satisfaction of forgiving him that easily. Virgil saw Roman’s shoulders droop a bit in that realization. “Logan and Patton talked with me. Which, by the way, was great. Having to talk to your friends about something that bothered you, instead of talking to you directly. Real mature.”

Roman winced. “Yeah, alright. I deserved that.” He sighed. “Look, I just…needed some time to think. About us.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Us?”

“Our friendship. You know what I meant,” Roman said in a somewhat exasperated tone. He continued, his voice turning apologetic, “I felt weird about the agreement to only hang out here. If there’s something you’re not telling me, well…I know it can be hard to open up to people, and that we’ve only known each other for a month, but you can talk to me about anything. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Just like you won’t tell Patton and Logan?”

“Hey, they came to me, not the other way around!” Roman’s voice rose a little in defense. “They saw how down I was and they asked me what was wrong! I didn’t have a choice!”

“Alright. Whatever.” Virgil shook his head, then looked at Roman in the eyes. “It really hurt to have you go silent like that. You’re…you’re kind of my only true friend, Roman. I don’t really have anyone else. Things are really difficult for me right now, which I know sounds cliche, but it’s true. My life hasn’t exactly been easy. Hanging out with you, being able to forget my problems for a few hours, has been the highlight of my day. Then to have you take that away…” Virgil gestured vaguely with one hand. “It hurt.”

“I’m really sorry. I mean it. I missed you too. But I felt like you weren’t - aren’t - being honest with me. I mean, how do I know you aren’t some sort of psycho that’s hiding something big?” Roman tried to joke.

Virgil didn’t smile. “I’ve been hurt in the past, and I didn’t want it to happen again. I don’t let people in easily. Whatever happened to friends supporting friends, like, ‘hey, I know you’re going through a rough time, and I’m here for you, but you can take all the time you need. You can tell me when you’re ready, no rush.’ No? None of that? Because honestly, Roman, disappearing at the slightest indication that something is wrong, and demanding me to tell you what I’m going through…it’s just…what you’re doing is incredibly selfish.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t trying to be selfish,” he said in a small voice. “I was giving the both of us some space. I could tell that you were dealing with something big, and I needed to think…we both could use some time alone; it just made sense to cool it for a bit.”

“Don’t you think you should’ve let me know?!” Virgil’s voice rose in anger. “You needed to think, awesome, but fucking  _tell me that_  instead of making me wonder what I did wrong!”

“Well, I’m sorry if I wasn’t thinking rationally,  _Virgil_ ,” Roman said, his own voice rising. “How did you expect me to react? My friend had just told me that we can only hang out in this park, in secret, like I’m a huge fucking embarrassment to be around.” Tears were forming in Roman’s eyes. “I’m not saying that hanging out at our houses is that big of a deal, that’s not the point. It’s the fact that you want to put stipulations on our friendship; that’s what rose major red flags for me.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” Virgil said sarcastically. “Not everyone’s life is sunshine and rainbows like yours.”

“Don’t you dare make assumptions about me like that! You know  _nothing_ about my life!” Roman yelled, jumping to his feet.

Virgil stood up to challenge him, “well, maybe I would if you didn’t shut me out!”

Roman glared at Virgil. “I said I was sorry. You don’t want to accept my apology? Fine. But don’t come whining to me when you’re ready to talk about whatever it is that’s ‘so fucking terrible’ in your life.”

Virgil’s fist flew before he even had time to think. He had never punched anyone before, but his hand connected with Roman’s jaw with complete accuracy. Roman staggered back in surprise and pain, which turned to anger as soon as he registered what happened.

Roman straightened up, clutching his jaw. “You know what? I don’t need this. Virgil, let me spell it out for you this time. I’m going to stop talking to you for a while. Don’t contact me.” With that, he walked away.

“You’re really walking away  _again_? Are you serious?” Virgil yelled after him, but Roman didn’t answer. “Fuck you,” he said under his breath.

Roman was almost out of the park when an idea struck him, making him change his mind. He was still angry at Virgil, and his jaw hurt like hell, but he made his decision. He held back, concealing himself behind a large bush, and waited for Virgil to exit the park. When he did, he kept him in his line of sight, waited a few moments, and then quietly followed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnn...what's going to happen next, I wonder?? ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman finds out Virgil’s secret.
> 
> Warnings: brief mention of murder (only as a panicked “jumping to conclusions” thought), a threat with a weapon, language

Roman followed Virgil across the street and past his busking spot. They walked a few blocks towards town, when suddenly Virgil turned right, heading into an alley. Confused, Roman stayed hidden behind several empty stacked crates and watched as Virgil set his backpack and guitar case down on the ground.  _“Why isn’t Virgil going home? What is he doing in this dirty alley?”_  Roman thought to himself.  _“Oh god, this is where I find out that he’s a psycho killer. Maybe he hides his bodies here and plans his next attack. Shit. I need to get out of here.”_  Roman was about to turn and leave, when he saw Virgil do something odd. He looked around himself, and then opened his backpack and took out a ratty looking throw blanket. He set it down before putting on his headphones, turning on his music on his phone, and laying down on the blanket, using his backpack as a pillow. Roman could see Virgil’s chest rise and fall slowly, as if he was trying to calm down. Which, Roman thought, was probably true after their fight. It finally started to rain steadily around them, and Roman waited for Virgil to get up and go home. But he didn’t. He simply took a second throw blanket out of his backpack and wrapped it over himself, shielding his head with it.

Roman stared at Virgil from his vantage point, thoroughly confused. He thought about all the conversations they’d had. What did he know about Virgil? He was seventeen, almost eighteen. He went to another high school in the district. He played guitar for money. He only wanted to hang out in town. What about his family? Roman racked his brain, but came up with nothing. In fact, Virgil had evaded all of Roman’s questions about his family and home life. He was pretty mysterious about that part of himself. What else? Virgil only seemed to have a few shirts and a couple of pairs of jeans, and always wore the same patchwork hoodie on top. Roman, being the sort of person who took pride in his appearance and never wore the same outfit twice in one week, had noticed Virgil’s small outfit collection early on in their friendship. He tried not to let it bother him, but he did find it odd.

Virgil sat up. He opened his backpack once more, and took out a torn piece of sandwich bread, completely unwrapped, and set it on his blanket, before rummaging around again in his bag. A small bird suddenly swooped down from above Roman, and landed next to Virgil, who was too busy rooting in his backpack to notice. The bird grabbed the bread and flew away just as Virgil turned back around with a reusable water bottle in his hand.

“Hey! Get back here!” Virgil shouted, jumping up. But the bird was gone. Virgil stood there for a second in shock, before sitting down and bursting into tears, to Roman’s surprise. “That was all I had, you damn bird!” he said through his sobs. He grabbed a rock near his feet and hurled it further into the alley with a frustrated yell.

 _“Man, Virgil’s really upset for just losing a small piece of bread,”_ Roman thought. Adding that to everything he had considered before, his mind supplied a reason. His (bruised) jaw dropped open.  _“No. It can’t be. Is Virgil…homeless?”_

Roman’s anger at his friend suddenly melted away as he regarded Virgil in front of him. It all made sense now. His heart started pounding and his eyes burned, blurring his vision as the rain continued to fall.  _“Calm down, Roman, you could still be wrong,”_  Roman told himself. But there way only one way to find out.

Slowly, he stepped out from his hiding spot. “Virgil?” He said, his voice small.

Virgil looked up quickly in surprise. “Roman?” He was so startled that he didn’t even look angry when he saw who it was. “What are you doing here?” He looked around. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to figure it out,” Roman said, his eyes still brimming with tears. “It all makes sense now. Is this…where you live?” He stepped closer, before sinking to his knees in front of his friend. “Is this what you were trying to hide from me?”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “No, no no no, I’m…I’m not homeless, I don’t live here, I swear. I’m just trying to wait out the storm, and then I’ll go home.” His words came out way too fast to be believable.

Roman shook his head, wiping his eyes. “Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out. Please.” His voice broke on the last word, causing Virgil to screw his eyes shut.

“I’m not…trying to,” Virgil whispered. “It’s like second nature now. I’ve had to do this for as long as I can remember. Even before I ran away. I told you, I don’t let people in easily. But I can’t…I can’t…” Virgil’s eyes opened, and they were so full of emotion that it broke Roman’s heart. Fear, sadness, shame.

“You…ran away? From home?” Roman said. He grabbed Virgil’s hands in his own and held them. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry. For everything.”

“I’m sorry too. Is your jaw okay?” Virgil asked, reaching up to gently touch the bruise.

Roman winced a bit, and Virgil dropped his hand into his lap, apologizing. “I’ll be fine. How’s your hand?”

Virgil glanced down at his reddened hand. “It’s okay. I’m actually kind of impressed by my aim.” Virgil grinned. “You’re the first person I ever punched.”

“Wow. I’m honored,” Roman joked. The two boys laughed. “I would have thought, judging from all of your piercings and tattoos and stuff, that you’d be no stranger to punching people.”

“Nah,” Virgil said with half a shrug. “I’m not as tough as I look. I…” his voice trailed off and he looked down.

“You what?” Roman said softly.

“I…I thought that if I looked the part, I could…convince myself that I was tough.”

“Why do you have to convince yourself that you’re tough?”

Virgil looked up. “Do you really want to know?”

Roman swallowed at that, feeling uneasy. But he had to know. “I think you’re past the point of no return, Virge. You may as well tell me everything.”

“Everything? How much time do you have?” Virgil said with a small smile.

“Virgil?”

“What?”

“You don’t have to joke around like that. You’re upset, I can tell.” Roman took his hands again. “I won’t judge you.”

Virgil hesitated and held his breath. Then he let it out, and patted a spot next to him on his blanket. “Sit. It’s clean, I washed it this morning.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that,” Roman said. He sat down next to Virgil, who pulled the second blanket over both of their heads like a hood to shield them from the rain.

Virgil took a deep breath. “Okay. Um. I ran away from home seven months ago–” he started, and paused as Roman inhaled sharply. “Yeah. Uh, so, my home life….god.” He chuckled humorlessly. “You’re really gonna go from ‘I know nothing about Virgil’ to ‘whoa, I didn’t sign up for this’.”

“It’s okay, I’m here for you,” Roman said firmly. “Let it all out. I can handle it. I’m not going anywhere.”

Virgil nodded and swallowed. He told Roman everything. About his birth dad, his terrible abusive step dad, his neglectful mother, all of it. He told him how after one particularly terrifying night when Reynard threatened him with a knife, he packed his backpack and ran away without a second thought. “They probably think I’m dead,” Virgil said. “I don’t even know if they tried looking for me. Two months after I ran away, they cut off my phone service. I can only use it on wi-fi now. If that’s not an indication that they don’t care that I ran away, I don’t know what is.”

Tears were running down both of the boys’ faces at this point. Roman had no words, his heart was too broken to speak. He pulled Virgil into his arms and held him while they both sobbed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one isn’t as exciting or dramatic as last chapter, but what can ya do. I promise it’ll get dramatic again soon. 
> 
> Trigger warnings: language, mention of abuse, starvation, disease, bugs

Eventually, the boys wiped their tears and calmed down. There was a small silence for a moment, neither teen knowing what to say.

Finally, Roman spoke. “I want you to come live with me.”

Virgil immediately shook his head. “No. That’s very kind of you, but I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“First of all, I’m sure your parents wouldn’t want a complete stranger living in their house. Secondly, that’s a huge inconvenience to house another person, and I can’t impose.”

“Impose? You wouldn’t be imposing! Virgil, you’re fucking homeless. I can’t sleep safe and warm in my bed knowing you’re out here shivering on these streets!”

Virgil rolled his eyes at his friend. “Roman, we live in Florida. It isn’t cold. I’m fine. I’ve been doing it for seven months now. I have it down to a science.”

“I won’t let you stay here. Aren’t there shelters you can go to?”

“No. None of them would take minors, since I’m still seventeen. Plus, I’d be worse off at most of them. The ones around here are filled with disease and bedbugs. I’m not staying there. I’m perfectly fine in my little alley home.” When Roman didn’t look convinced, Virgil laid a hand on his shoulder. “Trust me. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

“Okay, then at least let me visit you every day with food and stuff.”

“Roman, I don’t want you to sneak food off of your dinner table for me. And I certainly don’t want you spending your own money on buying some for me. I’m not a pity case.”

“Damn it, Virgil, let me help you!” Roman pleaded as new tears sprung to his eyes. “Please.”

Virgil was silent for a moment. When he spoke, he sounded resigned. “Fine. I’ll accept food,” he held up a hand when Roman’s eyes lit up, “only once or twice a week. Not every day. I don’t want anyone getting suspicious. And by that I mean…please don’t tell anyone about my homelessness.”

“What ab–”

“No, not even Patton and Logan.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “But Virgil, you can’t possibly expect me to keep it from them! They’re two of my oldest friends! They’ll know in an instant that there’s something I’m not telling them. Oh! They can bring food too so that it’s not all me, therefore throwing off any suspicion from my parents! Between the three of us, we can feed you every day!”

“Feed me?” Virgil quirked his eyebrow. “I’m not some pet to be tended to.”

“You know what I mean,” Roman said. “Come on, let me tell them.”

“No.”

“But Virgil–”

“I said no!” Virgil said loudly. Roman closed his mouth, looking surprised. Virgil sighed. “Roman, I…I’m sure you know why I kept my situation a secret from you this whole time. I’m ashamed. People don’t give two shits about the homeless. They judge them, wondering what they did to fuck up their life so badly that they don’t have a roof over their head at night. And add that to the fact that I’m still a kid….they’ll look at me like I’m some delinquent that got thrown out of his house. They won’t know I’m a…a vic–” Virgil’s voice caught in his throat.

“A victim of abuse,” Roman supplied quietly. Virgil nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. Roman looked Virgil in the eye, “My friends won’t judge you. I know that for a fact. Patton is the embodiment of compassion and understanding, and Logan takes things at face value. You tell him the truth, and he’ll believe it. They won’t think twice about wanting to help.”

“I just…can’t let them know, alright? They don’t even know me. We talked for maybe ten minutes. I can’t just walk up to them and go, ‘Hey, remember me? Roman’s friend who begged you to get him to talk to me? You don’t really know me, but…fun fact, I’m homeless. You know, in case you were wondering.’ No, that’s not going to happen. No way.”

“Alright, fine. Then I’ll bring you food once or twice a week like you said. I guess that’s better than nothing.”

“Yeah, okay.” Virgil ran his hand through his hair. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Virge,” Roman replied kindly. Virgil smiled at the nickname. “What kind of food do you like?” Virgil laughed, and Roman looked confused. “What?”

“Roman, I’m homeless. I eat, like, a cracker a day if I’m lucky.” He could see Roman’s eyes fill up a little at those words, so he continued quickly, “I’m happy to eat whatever you’ve got. And I’m not allergic to anything.”

“Oh, good,” Roman said. “I’ll bring as much as I can.”

Virgil smiled. “Thank you, Roman. For everything, I mean. For listening to me, for not judging me, for offering to help. It means a lot. I guess I didn’t realize how lonely I was. And I’m sorry again for punching you.”

“Forget about it. You had every right to be mad. I’m sorry again for what I said back in the park. I guess we both had some…feelings…to get out. But now that I know your…uh…secret…I understand what you were doing.”

“Yeah. And I can see where you were coming from, too,” Virgil said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “But I’m glad that’s behind us now. I guess now we just try to have things go back to normal and to hang out again.”

“With food,” Roman added.

Virgil laughed. “Yes, Roman. With food.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: abuse/neglect mention, fever, illness, language

Several weeks passed with Roman visiting Virgil every day, with food several times a week. He had managed to pilfer leftovers from his refrigerator at home without his parents’ detection. He usually got home from school well before they were home from work, so it wasn’t difficult to take a little bit out of the fridge every couple of days. He had bought a thermal insulated bag and heated the leftovers at home before bringing them directly to Virgil. The first time he had brought a hot meal over, Virgil had actually started crying after the first few bites. Roman was perplexed until Virgil explained that he hadn’t been able to afford to buy a hot meal in a month and a half, and had forgotten how good real food tasted. Roman also started crying at Virgil’s confession; he felt sad for his friend and guilty for being able to eat a hot meal every day. **  
**

It was a Saturday, and Roman hurriedly packed Virgil’s food into the bag and drove as quickly as he could to the alley. It was raining very hard, and on rainy days, he and Virgil would hang out at the library or somewhere else indoors. Virgil had asked the day before if they could visit the laundromat at some point. Roman rushed to drive to the alley so that Virgil could get out of the rain as soon as possible.

As Roman approached Virgil’s alley, he could tell that something was wrong. Virgil was underneath the makeshift roof that the two had constructed out of metal scraps they found lying around, but instead of sitting up and waiting for Roman like he usually was, Virgil was laying on his back. Roman checked his phone; it was 12pm, and so unlike Virgil to sleep in this late, especially when he knew that Roman was going to visit. Roman crossed the space quickly, setting the bag of food down underneath the roof and put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder.

“Virge? Are you awake? It’s me, Roman.” A pit formed inside Roman’s stomach when the homeless boy’s eyes remained closed. He looked paler than usual, and if it weren’t for his chest rising and falling, Roman would have feared the worst. “Virgil? Can you open your eyes?” Virgil groaned and opened his eyes a little. Roman put one of his hands on Virgil’s arm and placed the other on his back, trying to urge his head forward into the rain to cool him down a little and to wake him up more. It did, but barely. Virgil coughed a bit as rain splashed onto his face. He blinked and looked at Roman, his eyes unfocused and bloodshot. He looked confused and disoriented.

“We’re in your alley, Virge. I came to bring you food, and found you like this. What happened?”

“Don’t…feel…good.” Virgil mumbled. “I’m hot…and cold.”

Roman studied his friend, who had just started shivering. He felt Virgil’s forehead and sucked in a breath when he realized that he was burning up. “I think you have a fever. We need to get you out of the rain. I’m going to bring you to my house, okay?” He grabbed Virgil’s food, as well as his backpack and guitar case (which were thankfully under Virgil’s makeshift roof), and hoisted his friend to his feet. Virgil wobbled immediately, and would have fallen over if Roman hadn’t been holding onto him tightly. “Whoa there, buddy. Careful. Let’s get you into my car. Luckily I parked close.”

With a bit of difficulty from juggling so many bags as well as Virgil’s weight, Roman somehow managed to get them to his car. He shoved the bags into the trunk before opening the back passenger door and guiding his friend to lay down. He drove to his house, and immediately herded Virgil upstairs into his bedroom. He got out a clean, dry t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, and quickly changed Virgil into those comfortable clothes. He was thankful that his younger self had insisted on having two twin beds in his bedroom (for sleepovers), and that present day teen-Roman now used his spare bed as a couch, full of cozy pillows and blankets, which he now used to make Virgil feel as comfortable and warm as he could in the bed. Virgil was still shivering, and pulled the blankets up to his chin before promptly closing his eyes. As soon as he was sure Virgil was asleep, Roman went back downstairs to put Virgil’s food away and to retrieve his belongings to bring to his room. He briefly worried about his parents finding out about Virgil in his room, but dismissed that thought quickly. “Those are the least of my problems right now,” he mumbled softly out loud to himself. “Virgil is sick and needs to be in a proper home instead of his alley.”

Another thought struck him, and he left his room to retrieve their digital thermometer from the first aid kit in the hall closet. After he was sure that Virgil was totally asleep, Roman uncapped the thermometer and pushed it into Virgil’s mouth, making sure it was under his tongue before pressing the button. Luckily, the sleeping boy did not wake up, allowing Roman to take his temperature. When the thermometer beeped, Roman took it out and looked at it. It read 102.2ºF/39ºC.

“Shit,” Roman said. He glanced at Virgil, who was still asleep. After a moment of deliberation, Roman sighed. “Fuck it. This is important.” He grabbed his phone and brought up Logan’s number.

Logan answered on the second ring. “Salutations, Roman.”

“Hey Logan. I have a problem, and I was hoping you could help me out.”

“Oh? What are the details of your problem?”

“You remember my friend Virgil, right?”

“The boy who you asked Patton and me to speak to several weeks ago? I do remember him. Why?”

“Well, he’s sick. He has a fever of 102.2. I took him back to my place, and he’s sleeping in my spare bed right now. But I don’t know how to take care of a sick person, and I was hoping you did?” Roman formed the last part of his sentence as a question.

There were a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone before Logan spoke. “Roman, I may be able to be of some assistance. But first, I have a question.”

“Sure.”

“Why isn’t he at his own house where his parents would be able to take care of him more adequately?”

Roman winced.  _I figured I’d have to tell him, but I didn’t think I’d have to do it this soon in the conversation_ , he thought to himself. “Uh…well…Virgil didn’t want me to tell anyone this, but…he’s…homeless.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“He ran away from home more than six months ago. He was abused and neglected by his stepfather and his mom, respectively, and couldn’t take it anymore, so he packed a few belongings and ran away. He busks on the street corner for money.”

“I see. And you befriended him and learned his secret.”

“Yes. I only found out that he was homeless a few weeks ago. I wanted to tell you and Pat, but he made me promise not to. But now that he’s sick, I needed to tell you. I can’t help him on my own.”

“You did the right thing. I’m not a doctor, but I do enjoy reading medical books. I may be able to provide some assistance. May I come see him?”

“Yes, please. And can you bring Patton and fill him in on the way?”

“Certainly. I will give Patton a call and hopefully he will be available to accompany me to your house. Are your parents still at work?”

“Yes. I don’t want them finding out just yet; I hope we can hide him for now. If your parents ask, tell them you’re coming over to my house to do a group project.”

“I strongly dislike lying to my parents, but I shall do what’s best for your friend.”

“Thank you, Lo.”

“You’re welcome, Roman. I will text you when Patton and I are on our way.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Half an hour later, Logan texted Roman saying that he and Patton were en route to his house, and ten minutes after that, the three boys were huddled over Virgil’s sleeping form.

“The poor kiddo is homeless and sick?” Patton said in a whisper, his voice full of emotion. He reached his arms out, clearly wanting to give Virgil a hug.

“I would advise you not to get too close to him, Patton,” Logan said in low voice. “Roman said he is running a temperature and we would not want you to become ill as well.”

Patton pulled his arms back reluctantly, furrowing his eyebrows and settling for a sympathetic pat on Virgil’s blanket-covered shoulder.

“What should we do to help him get better, Logan?” Roman asked.

“When he wakes up, we must give him liquids. Water, juice, tea, et cetera. Have him eat a little if he can manage it. Then, we should give him some Advil or Tylenol. We can also put cold compresses on his forehead to ease his discomfort.”

“How long has he been asleep?” Patton asked Roman.

Roman glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table. “About an hour and a half.”

Logan nodded. “Let’s let him sleep for as long as he needs and tend to him when he awakens.”

That ended up only being another forty-five minutes. Roman, Logan, and Patton were downstairs doing homework, and Roman was going upstairs every ten or fifteen minutes to check on Virgil. When Roman saw that Virgil was awake, he called down for Patton and Logan to come upstairs.

“Is he awake?” Patton asked as he pushed Roman’s door open further so he and Logan could enter.

“Yes,” Roman answered. He gazed down at Virgil, whose eyes were shifting back and forth between the three boys. “Virge? How are you feeling?”

“Ngh,” Virgil groaned. He wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand and then kicked off the comforter, and froze. He looked down at himself in the bed, and then back up, his eyes darting around the room. “Where…?”

“We are at my house, Virgil; I took you there. Don’t you remember?” Roman looked confused. “I told you that I was going to bring you here.”

“Virgil may be disoriented and confused due to his fever,” Logan clarified. “He may not have registered the events that transpired earlier today. We should work on breaking his fever so that he may return to his normal awareness.”

“Right. You guys stay here with him. I will get him some water and Advil.”

“If you have any food for him to eat, I suggest that as well,” Logan reminded Roman. Roman nodded and left the room.

Once Roman was gone, Patton turned to Logan. “I can’t believe that Virgil is homeless. It breaks my heart.”

“Yes, it is quite unfortunate, but he had to do what was best for his own safety. He could not have stayed in an abusive household.”

“And that’s another thing,” Patton continued, his eyes welling up with tears. “His parents were abusing him! That is inexcusable. How anyone could hurt their child like that is completely beyond me. It’s despicable. He didn’t deserve that.”

“No, indeed not,” Logan agreed. “But he is in good hands now…for the time being.”

“Oh, he can’t go back to the streets once he gets well! Logan, we have to keep him with us! Here, or at my house, or–”

“Patton, I understand that you mean well, but you cannot make decisions like that for Virgil. None of us can. Besides, it is best not to think about that right now. Our priority is first tending to his illness and making sure he gets well.”

“I guess you’re right.”

A moment later, Roman returned with the supplies for Virgil. They helped him into a sitting position, propping up the pillows behind him so that he would be comfortable. They gave him the glass of water and the pill, before coaxing him to eat a bit of the food Roman had heated up.

“What are we going to do when your parents get home from work?” Patton asked Roman.

Roman looked at the clock. “Well, there is still about an hour left before they’ll be back, and I’m just going to keep Virgil in here and try not to let my parents in. It should be fine; they don’t come into my room that often. They usually relax downstairs after work. I will keep my tv on, both for Virgil’s enjoyment as well as a way to hide any sounds he might make. I have a habit of leaving my tv on when I leave the room anyway, so they won’t find it odd.”

“So you’re going to leave him upstairs alone? Without checking on him?” Patton asked, concerned.

“It’ll just be during dinnertime, really,” Roman said. “I usually do my homework in here after dinner, so I’ll do that, and be in here with him while he rests.”

“That does sound like a solid plan,” Logan said with a nod. “Will you periodically send us text messages to update us on his well being?”

“Of course I will,” Roman reassured them.

“Satisfactory,” Logan said. “Well, I think it may be best for Patton and myself to head home now.”

“Okay. Thank you for coming over.”

“You’re welcome. Let us know if you want our help again. I will come over right away!” Patton said.

“As will I,” Logan added. “I do hope he recovers quickly.”

“Thank you. Me too,” Roman said. Patton and Logan said goodbye to Virgil, who seemed to be fighting to stay awake, and let Roman walk them to the door. After they left, Roman returned to his room and shut the door behind him. “Well, Virge,” he said, handing him the water glass again. “Let’s see how good of a caretaker I can be.”


End file.
